


He Needs You, He Has You

by cowboykylux



Series: Blue Moon 'Verse [10]
Category: Burn This - Wilson
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Gentleness, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Tenderness, True Love, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25614337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: When Pale's fucked up beyond belief, crashing from a beautiful high, all he wants is you, to kiss you, to be with you. And he does, and he is.
Relationships: Pale (Burn This)/Reader, Pale (Burn This)/You
Series: Blue Moon 'Verse [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1491260
Kudos: 12





	He Needs You, He Has You

He does this, sometimes. Sometimes when he’s blasted out of his mind, when he’s scraping at the skin beneath his nails to try and pick out some of the white powder he shoots up his nose, when he’s had too much to drink and comes stumbling into the apartment, stumbling back to you.

He cups your cheeks in his shaking hands, his clammy hands, his bleeding hands, and he kisses you. Kisses you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted in his whole life. Maybe you are, you don’t know. You don’t know, he doesn’t tell you, doesn’t tell you things like that.

He tells you all sorts of other things, all sorts of things. But nothing like that.

He’s kissing you now, out of his mind. He’s out of it, coming down from a high that you knew was a good one. The good ones always crashed the worst, you’ve found, just by watching him, watching the way he shakes and aches and begs for you. Not verbally, but with outstretched hands, scarred knuckles and calloused palms, Pale begs for you.

He’s got your face in his sweaty bleeding calloused clammy hands now, his grip a little too tight. You might have bruises when he’s done with you. He’s never done with you, not really. But in this moment, he’s holding your face tight, holding your jaw open with the hold he’s got on your cheeks, on your chin.

Pale kisses lots of different ways, lots of hungry demanding insistent ways, but this…this is different. This is reserved for when his whole world is spiraling down and all the high is draining from his bones and his veins and his nerves, this is reserved for when the only thing he wants is to be grounded in you.

“Stay still,” He whispers – or maybe he shouts, maybe he screams, he doesn’t know – “Stay still for me.”

And you do, you yield yourself to him, hand yourself over to him, as he searches your tongue for secrets you don’t keep, pries your lips apart with his fingers and his teeth. He tastes like cigarettes and alcohol and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of being so manhandled, manhandled by your Pale.

He’s running the edge of his tongue along the edge of your teeth, following along the crooked path they lay out before him. He’s memorizing you, tracing the ridge of your pearly whites, all the cracks and crevices, all the nooks and crannies. Every chip and scratch and filling and crown he runs his tongue over, mapping out your mouth, mapping out all of you, one molar at a time.

You let him, of course you let him. He needs this, even if he doesn’t tell you why, even if he’ll never tell you why. You don’t have to ask to know you’re the one who keeps him going, the one he keeps coming back to, you’re the one. So you let him do this, let him have this – let him have you.


End file.
